


The Gift Of Warmth

by acari



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Community: contrelamontre, Improv, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-02
Updated: 2002-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acari/pseuds/acari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s an ancient priest and Harry’s feeling animalistic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift Of Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> For Brenda  
> -improvement for ContreLaMontre (45 minutes, rain)

Dark, heavy ladden clouds hang over the land like a threat. Nature seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the hidden power to unleash. Where a beam of light had managed to fight its way through the barrier it filtered over the lush expance of rolling hills. Like emeradls, the hilltops gleamed. Shimmering, a light worth artist hands to capture on canvas, film, whatever really.

Slowly the first drops began to fall, drip-dropping on the hood of the car. Drumming a secret rhythm like the morse alphabet. Long-short. Short-short.

Harry wished again to one day understand the language of nature. Maybe it was all encrypted in the rhythm of raindrops.

The wind flared up, whispering around the car, circling; racing stormclouds across the sky.

"Orli, get back in the car," he yelled to the man outside.

Said man turned around; laughing with his eyes, his mouth, his body. Radiating. "No, you come outside," he quipped.

Harry shook his head, smiling at Orli’s antics. "You," he began, but stopped cold as Orlando started to unbutten his shirt.

Sure fingers loosened first one button, then the next; his face upturned, rain dripping on his face. Orlando shrugged the shirt off, twirled it around, let it fly in the wind like a leave.

Orli stood on the lush grass like he was along in this world. He tilted his head up again, stretched his arms out. Inviting.

The rain didn’t hesitate. Like a caress it dripped on Orli’s face, hair, shoulders. Ran down his neck, a tiny drop clung to his nose, sparkling off like a diamond. Like an ancient priest Orli stood there, praying to mother earth.

 

~~~

 

The first thing that hit Harry as he left the car was the smell. His senses were invaded by lush, earthy richness. He wanted to kneel down and bury his nose in the soil, wanted to roll around in the mud. Animalistic, he felt.

But there was yet another scent in the air. Warm, citric, Orlando. Well, maybe Harry was the only one who could sense Orlando like this. It drew Harry to him. He shivered as cold drops hit his chest, his shirt lay forgotten in the car.

The rain was getting heavier by the minute. Mist hung over the valleys, grey and thick. No sound but the drip-dropping language of nature. He held out his hands, catching the tears of mother earth, her gift. Wet hands washed over his face, cold and smooth.

There was no bush, no tree for miles. It was farmers land. Rural New Zealand where it seemed like one is the only person on earth. Barren land. A lush, green desert of rolling hills and gentle valleys.

Harry drank in the sight, came to rest on Orlando spinning around as if in trance. Yes, a priest. Worshipping the rain.

A shiver wrecked his body, and he walked over to Orlando, seaking his heat.

 

~~~

 

Orli felt connected to nature, the little drops connected him with the silent power of infinity. Rain, earth, sky spoke to him in an ancient language he knew he’d understand if only he could remember. Hightened senses listened to the clouds overhead, the grass greedily drinking the rain like a sigh echoing through the land.

Then it all fell away as warmth encircled him. Strong arms came around his waist. A muscled chest pressed against his back. Harry.

There was no rain; no silent, forgotten knowleadge; only heat as hands wandered over clammy skin. A hot mouth traveled down his neck, laving at the juncture to his shoulder.

Harry was licking the rain from Orli’s body. Warm, wet tongue. Cold, dripping rain.

Orli turned around in Harry’s arms, let his hands run free up and down Harry’s back. Seaking and finding warmth.

Harry kissed shimmering drops off Orli’s eye-lashes. Brushed clinging dark locks from Orli’s forehead. Leaned in finally to claim Orli’s lips. Heat buzzed through their bodies. Enticing.

A curtain of mist started to surround them, cold and clammy; but neither one noticed. Lost in a kiss that stripped them to their roots. No mind enquiring about the knowledge of forgotten languages but bodies lost in the feel of another.

While mother earth continued gifting the land with her tears, Orlando and Harry continued to gift each other with the warmth of their bodies.

 

End.


End file.
